Chapter 4

"Helen's soul has cracked. Only the heart-blood of an ancient true god can mend it."

Arthur stood beside Cynthia's bed and stared at her.

His voice left no room for discussion.

It was an order, delivered as if her compliance were a given.

Today was the last day of the divine curse's countdown.

Cynthia lay in bed without the Moon Soul Pearl or the sacred spring to restrain the curse.

The curse inside her had erupted in full force.

Her divine soul felt as though it were being gnawed by a million ants. Even breathing was agony.

I lay beside her pillow.

My heart ached as I watched cold sweat bead across her forehead and licked her face over and over.

"Heart-blood."

Cynthia's mouth twisted.

The result was a smile more painful than tears.

"Arthur, do you have any idea what it means to take a true god's heart-blood?"

Arthur's gaze wavered for an instant.

But he steadied himself just as quickly.

"The healer said it's only a bowlful.

"Rest for a few hundred years and you'll recover.

"But Helen can't wait.

"The cracks are spreading. If they aren't sealed soon, her soul will shatter."

He stepped closer, a sharp dagger in his hand.

"Cynthia, you were willing to give her the Moon Soul Pearl.

"Surely you won't begrudge her a bowl of heart-blood."

I leapt up in fury and hissed at Arthur with every breath I had.

He was a monster.

How could he say something like that?

Cynthia had already given him everything.

Now he wanted her life.

"Get out!"

I screamed with all my strength.

To him, though, my voice was nothing but a rabbit's squeal.

Arthur waved his hand in irritation, and a blast of force sent me flying.

I slammed hard into the wall.

Then I slid to the floor.

It felt like several of my bones had snapped.

"Puff!"

Cynthia cried out and tried to force herself upright.

But Arthur pressed a hand to her shoulder and pinned her down.

"Hold still."

His voice was cold and merciless.

"It'll be quick."

Cynthia stopped struggling.

She looked at Arthur, her gaze terrifyingly empty.

"Arthur, in eight hundred years, have I ever done anything to wrong you?"

Arthur went rigid.

The dagger hung motionless in midair.

He looked at Cynthia's ashen face, and memories flooded through him.

His memories carried him back eight hundred years.

Enemies had hunted him down, and Cynthia had descended from the heavens to save him.

She had woven an unbreakable shield of moonlight around him.

He had wanted to become a god.

Cynthia had worked day and night to help him forge his divinity.

Without Cynthia, Arthur would never have become what he was.

"You..."

Arthur's mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.

"No."

Cynthia answered for him.

"I gave you everything I could.

"And now you want to take the very last thing I have left."

She closed her eyes. A single tear slid from the corner of her eye.

"Fine. Take it."

Cynthia suddenly seized the wrist that held the dagger and drove the blade into her own chest.

A wet, tearing sound filled the room.

Arthur's eyes went wide.

He tried to pull free, but Cynthia kept his wrist locked in her grasp.

Golden blood flowed out, dripping into the bowl Arthur had prepared.

Each drop pulsed with concentrated divine power.

Cynthia's face went gray, fast enough to watch it happen.

Her life force was ebbing fast.

"Enough! That's enough!"

Arthur panicked.

He wrenched his hand free and pulled out the dagger.

Blood gushed from the wound.

It soaked the front of Cynthia's robes red.

Arthur held the bowl in trembling hands.

He looked at Cynthia lying on the bed.

A sudden, nameless panic surged through him.

It felt as though something precious were disappearing from his life forever.

"Rest well."

He left those words behind and fled.

I dragged my broken leg behind me.

Step by painful step, I crawled back to Cynthia's side.

I pressed my body against the wound in her chest, trying to stop the bleeding.

Cynthia's breathing was so faint I could barely feel it.

"Puff.

"Time's up."

I raised my head and looked out the window.

The moon had turned an eerie blood-red.

"Arthur, from this day forward, you and I owe each other nothing."